Unspoken
by Cherrie
Summary: (Rukawa/Sakuragi one-shot) Rukawa's thoughts. Is he just being used?


**Disclaimers:** Slam Dunk and all mentioned characters are owned by Mr. Takehiko Inoue.  
**Notes:** *frowns* May I announce my heartfelt disappointment when I say that there haven't been much shounen ai going on around the world of Slam Dunk lately. I'm afraid that this may explain the reason why I'm unable to continue with the remaining chapters of my fanfic (temporarily, mind you, let's not get carried away now, shall we? *peace sign*). I write because there's inspiration. But I haven't read much of the badly needed fanfics lately, and even in sites out of FF.net lack new ones. Anyway, just waking up you writers out there. I'm feeling a bit gloomy lately so please bear with my mood *bows down apologetically*. This fanfic was not inspired, so don't expect much, okay? ^_^'  
**Warning:** HanaRu YAOI, angst, possible OOCness I think (this fanfic is made during a time from which Sakuragi and Rukawa are lovers, so it might explain the purpose of the angst)

**U N S P O K E N**

He watched aimlessly as the orange basketball expectedly went through the hoop, creating that familiarly smooth sound of rushing wind as it passed. He felt the ground again at his feet, his pitch-black hair falling in random to cover icy blue eyes. And yet the usual rush of excitement and adrenalin that would always come every time he makes a successful jumpshot--or any shot for that matter--was peculiarly absent this time, and was but merely replaced by a feeling so alien to him at such moments of glory. 

His gaze fell to his hand. It was the very hand he had used countless of times to fulfill the dreams and goals he had set out for himself. But now, as he looked at it, as he reflected on the moment he had held the perfect familiarity of the ball between his two hands, he felt as if the strong beating of his heart did not at all calm down as it usually should. 

It couldn't be. This was his only source of comfort. It shouldn't fail him now.

And yet, as his gaze shifted back to the lone basketball that lay on the ground but a few feet away from him, he couldn't understand why these things had happened to him. But just when he had thought that no other thing could surprise him more, his vision clouded, only to turn into a familiar face who bears that painfully familiar color of bright orange-red, with eyes so dark and light all at the same time that he couldn't even decide if it reminded him of copper, or of fire, or of anything else. Or perhaps those eyes had made their own description enough that it was impossible to compare them with anything else. They were uniquely their own. Uniquely...his.

That last thought made him wince. He distracted himself too much that he didn't even notice his hand clenching into a tight fist that shook with such an intensity that one could've sworn he intended to hit something. But instead of doing anything more, he closed his eyes, a gruff breathe escaping his lips as he finally allowed his knees to fall beneath him. He sat none too gracefully on the warm floors of the basketball court, his face buried in his hand in a gesture of weariness. 

Why couldn't he avoid those eyes? Why must they always follow him wherever he goes? And why does he always ache every time they look at him in spite, whenever they look at him with that tinge of hatred he had always grown accustomed to? Wasn't a year and countless months enough for him to take it in himself that those eyes would never look at him with anything even close to affection? Desire, but not affection. It could almost made him laugh at the irony. Almost. 

Unconsciously, his hand pulled away from his face, only to drift close again so that the tips of his fingers lightly touched with his slightly opened lips. The small touch sent a bolt of electricity through him, probably because the touch reminded him of another pair of lips as well. He remembered the warm yet impatient--bordering on crazed even--kisses the redhead would give him during the nights from whence he'd come to him and tell him of his worries, and later on make him feel how such frustrations had bothered him. 

He couldn't remember when that kind of relationship between them started. They still hated each other. Or at least, he knew the redhead hated him. He never really felt anything against the other boy. Those moments from which they'd fight, from which he'd fight back, were just moments where he had no choice but fight as well lest he risk being killed. Or something close to that. 

Perhaps it was after their first game together after Sakuragi healed out from his injury that started this madness. The redhead's hunger and passion in his plays were not left unseen by him, for every time the boy does something, it was done with a kind of impatience and aggression that was a thousand-folds in comparison to his last games. And this was also the very same moment that Rukawa had realized how much the other affected him, in more ways than he would ever admit.

After the game, he remembered himself inside the locker rooms, with only him and Sakuragi left behind. And the nightmare, if he'd dare call it that, started. Sakuragi had looked at him like a tiger would look at its prey. And he could do nothing but yield to the other, for even his own mind then was clouded with thoughts of him close to himself, his body pressed against his as passion controlled them both. Both of them were at a fault, with their own desire and physical drive that drove them to the edge of a cliff that neither of them had ever been in before. 

But he wasn't like Sakuragi. He had a feeling that the redhead only saw him as somebody to spend his frustration on. Much as he wanted to feel the same way towards the other, the affection that unconsciously grew inside him had developed to an insane kind of fondness, and that was why he couldn't get away. Never in his life had he met anybody who could make him weak, who could make him do anything just for the sake of it. Never in his life had he needed anybody so much.

Perhaps it was his loneliness that made him stay with him. Or maybe it was his insanity.

"Hey."

When he lifted his eyes, he met with that painfully familiar color of intense fire. They looked at him with mild curiosity. Rukawa knew that the call was from the other as well, for there was obviously no other person who could've been there but himself and this person in front of him. 

"Why'd you leave?" the redhead asked, his voice strangely leveled. This was a fact that Rukawa found very hard to believe. Sakuragi wasn't always the naively loud boy he makes everybody believe. And he surprised him every time he speaks with him with a voice so gentle that he could've melted just listening to it. 

When Rukawa didn't reply, Sakuragi spoke again. "Miyagi said I should come and fetch you before you hurt yourself," he said, as he now sat himself down on the ground, very much like the cross-legged position Rukawa was in. 

Still, the fox-eyed boy was silent. A sigh escaped Sakuragi's lips. "Look, I didn't mean to yell at you. And it's not like it's not everyday that we argue. We always do that."

"Just because I always fight back doesn't mean I like doing it," Rukawa said finally. Cold blue eyes now stared back with a violent flame that rivaled the others own. "Unlike you."

Sakuragi frowned. "What does that suppose to mean?"

"Don't take me for a fool, Sakuragi. I may have been a fool for you once, but don't expect me to always be so."

"I don't know what you're talking about, kitsune. Stand up and let's go." And with this, Sakuragi stood up, expecting Rukawa to do the same. But the boy didn't move. "What?" he asked impatiently, losing control. 

A few moments passed before the other replied. 

"What am I to you?" Rukawa asked, his voice so quiet that it was barely heard. "A _thing_ you use just so you can relieve yourself when you can't take things anymore?"

"As far as I can remember, Rukawa, all I did was to give you the same insults I give each and every day. You know they'll always come. But _you_ went all berserk and walked out of the team. What the hell's up with that?! Just so you'd get the satisfaction of seeing our teammates go, 'Ooh, the great Rukawa walked out of practice. Something must be wrong. We should give him our attention back!'? Well if it makes you feel better, the attention's back on you."

Sakuragi had to stop his words because immediately, Rukawa stood up with a speed that rivaled light, and his fist collided with Sakuragi's cheek strong enough to make the other fall. 

"You really are an idiot," he said, his fist shaking beside him even more intensely than it had a few minutes ago. "I should've known you'd be too shallow to understand what really is going on."

Sakuragi watched silently from his position as Rukawa's head bent down, in anger, in remorse, he didn't know. But he saw those lips form the words that added to the whole of the cold boy's statement. He remembered the words. _I should've known you'd be too shallow to understand what really is going on. _"You can't understand what really is going on with me."

And to this, Rukawa fell on his knees, head bent once again to the exact same position Sakuragi had found him in just moments ago. Ignoring the blood that threatened to trickle down his lower lip, the redhead sat up to touch the other, though hesitantly. And he heard words in whispers again. "Just because I don't seem to feel anything doesn't mean I completely can't."

Rukawa couldn't really tell if Sakuragi understood what he had been saying. But like a blade cutting through his skin, all line of thought disappeared as he felt himself being pulled close to warmth. He took note of the hands that held his face with urgency and yet with gentleness. He took note of those lips as they met with his own. 

Of course they have kissed before. During those nights when they needed to release each other's pent up feelings inside of them, they kissed with need and passion that was too intense to even describe. But this, this kiss, it wasn't like anything they had shared before. When before they kissed with impatience and urgency, this kiss was filled with gentleness. When before their kiss was drugging and maddening, this one was then the epitome of sweetness, with a room for rejection. The kiss was not possessive. It was comforting. 

"I'm sorry."

Those words were the sounds he heard first when they pulled away. At first, they were only jumbled up sounds whose meanings he couldn't quite believe. But when they were repeated over and over, with growing desperation and urgency for him to reply, he couldn't help it. His pale, shaking hands lifted themselves up to catch the other pair that held him, to grasp them in a hold that reflected his doubts, his anger, his fear. His need to be held.

"Rukawa."

Blue eyes then met with copper brown, and it was only seconds then before they kissed again. Still, he couldn't understand why he insisted on staying in the arms of the other boy. He still couldn't see the point in living his life as a mangled piece of skin and bone, with a mind twisted enough to feel so strongly for a person such as his mortal rival, and a heart crushed enough that he could've sworn it was already numb. 

"I'll take you home. You need to rest."

All he needed was reassurance. Even a small word of comfort that would tell him that everything didn't need to be explained or to be understood. He needed to know that he was worth something. 

But he was too tired to listen anymore. He didn't feel it when Sakuragi placed him on his back, didn't feel it when he lifted him to carry him to his house as he had said. He didn't hear Sakuragi tell him that he'll do the explaining to Miyagi. He didn't feel like he had reached his own home, didn't recognize his own room, his own bed. He didn't feel like he breathed, like he was alive. He didn't feel himself falling deep in slumber. 

The door closed amidst the darkness as the redhead walked out of the other boy's room. But before he walked away from the door completely, he looked back, his eyes clouded. 

"I need you."

The boy didn't hear. 

**E N D**

**A/N:   
***sheepish grin* Ahaha! *scratches head* That didn't go as I had expected. But let's just say that this fanfic reflected my current mood perfectly that I didn't even known it. I'm not really much of an angst fan, I'm sorry *bows down again*. Thank you for reading. Comments are greatly appreciated. 


End file.
